Blind Endeavours- Part 5: Piano Concerto No 17
by Wiz-Chic
Summary: Part 5/10. Sherlock and Madeline are forced in many ways- none of them expected. All of them experimental. Some of them fun- while others are dangerous. Will our favourite duo finally come together? Will anyone ever be safe? Sherlock/OC. RATED M.
1. Sabotage

**Agh, alright everyone if you follow me on tumblr you know what's going on. Basically I lost the original chapter I wrote. My computer ran out of battery, shut down- and the chapter was unsaved. These past 5 chapters have been bloody cursed. So this is about half the size it originally was, unfortunately I didn't have the patience to write all 10 pages all over again, so this will have to do for now but the next chapter is quite juicy, I assure you. **

**Thank you to everyone who read and commented in part 4! While part 4 was very dark- Part 5 is rather fun! More Sherlock- More Madeline- more compromising positions!**

**Warning- in case you haven't noticed it's RATED M from here on out. As I stated in the beginning, halfway through the series the second half would be rated M. We have reached that point from here to part 10. Take this rating as you may- but it means some interesting things are coming your way. Let your imagination run a little bit here- can't wait to get to the juicy bits ;) **

**Poster by Oliveswind, and accompanying piece in profile.**

**Enjoy! And pray for a more steady less-cursed part 5. **

* * *

**One month later. **

Madeline Smith was surrounded. She was cold. No, she was freezing. …and she was surrounded.

_ I would unpack if I could feel my limbs. _

True it had been a month since moving into her new flat far across on the other side of London from Baker Street- and yet she was living out of boxes. All yet to remain unpacked. This could have been attributed to Madeline's known hatred of doing any sort of physical work but in truth it had more to do with the fact that since she'd moved in- her flat had been falling apart.

Her first week there- the water turned brown.

Second week there, there was a sudden crack in her ceiling and a leak through her roof right over her bed forcing her to make a bed on the floor made out of her jumpers.

Third week there her heating broke making it hotter than the sun in her own flat- forcing her to wear her undergarments and nothing else while home and eventually choosing to spend her nights at the ballet studio when the next week after her heating was fixed- her air conditioning system broke- which was what left her in her frozen state now.

_Fuck I miss 221b... and that stupid beast of a man! ... damn him and those endearing curls. ...That warm chest that some how manages to warm the whole bed on a cold night. ...his scent-Oh god his scent._

_Damn him._

Madeline thought bitterly. John Watson had been by to visit every week since that fateful day that she simultaneously had Sherlock Holmes not declare a thing to her after 3 years of waiting, opened the safe, and moved out- all in the same day. None of these events were to her liking.

She hadn't spoken to Sherlock Holmes since he left her without an answer; and never more had she wanted to slap someone so hard and kiss them senseless at the same time. Even during Madeline's new flat party- in which Mrs. Hudson, Molly, Greg Lestrade, John and Mary had all shown up to- Sherlock was regrettably 'busy' according to John due to his 'being a moronic asshole.' Madeline couldn't agree more.

The safe, if possible, was an even bigger disappointment. It was, quite anticlimactically, empty. The only thing inside was an inscription in the back of the heavy metal box which read, 'Desiderabilia nostra cor' which, due to Madeline's childhood of learning Latin meant (quite redundantly) the same message that was on the locket around her neck-

_Our Lovely heart. _

Same message. Different place. Still no documents.

Madeline began to seriously wonder if there were such things- or if they were an elaborate lie to lead her biological brother on a wild hunt that would end empty handed. Either way- it left her in an uneasy position of destined failure.

_Naturally._

It was then as Madeline shivered and began to feel her eyes droop closed her air conditioning beating on her heavily as her skin crawled under the four jumpers that tried to protect her sensitive untouched skin.

* * *

John Watson almost felt bad. Well- no actually, he felt quite bad. Madeline didn't deserve this sort of pain. Sherlock Holmes- however, he felt did.

"God dammit, Sherlock!" John bellowed as Sherlock threw the glass mug against the wall after yet another failed experiment of dipping toes into different consistencies of milk. "We're running out of cups!"

"Maybe if these bloody trials would run correctly-!" Sherlock shouted in utter frustration- his face scrunching in absolute anger and pain.

"Yeah- cause that's clearly what's been bothering you this past month." John replied sarcastically crossing his arms, "Nothing to do with the lack of the presence of that 5 foot 3 inch ballerina who nearly pummeled you to death before leaving-"

"I let her." Sherlock responded quickly and defensively.

"Really? Cause those bruises on your wrists told me she had you in a back-lock."

"Regardless, I don't care." Sherlock brushed off, fixing his robe.

"Really? You don't care that the love of your life just moved out of your flat-"

"She's not-"

"Or the fact that you didn't have the man balls to tell her how you really felt? None of that bother's you, you say."

"I had every intention of telling her otherwise- as you know. Yet when the time came I found I was trying to be _courteous_ by sparing her feelings." Sherlock spat through his teeth, John raised his eyebrows, not believing a word of it.

"You and that word don't mix, Sherlock. Everyone on this big blue world who's ever heard your name knows that." John paused as Sherlock looked away, "Listen, Madeline's safe now. Since that safe was utterly useless and empty- chances are of those documents being real are second to nothing. Words gotten around, people have stopped looking for her, and for them. There's nothing holding you two back from being together now-"

"And who says I want to be together?" Sherlock spat, "Don't be sentimental John. It doesn't suit civilized people."

"You know," John shook his head, "One day you're going to wake up alone and bitter and I won't be here, and Mrs. Hudson will be out on another affair- and you'll keep looking at that silly painting above the fireplace and that bullet hole in the floor- and you'll miss her more than you do even now." Sherlock didn't reply as he looked away from John yet again, walking towards the window in the living room he looked out at the cold foggy London morning. "…Did you know the safe was going to be empty?"

Once more Sherlock stayed silent. Getting no answer , John settled in to eat his toast and jam as he watched his closest friend pick up his violin and play yet another one of the hundred melodies he'd composed this past month.

While Irene had one specific sound, and certain moments had their own- it seemed Madeline had hundreds. She was a symphony in his head. A puzzle Sherlock Holmes couldn't put together. A mystery he would never understand his reaction to.

* * *

"The total is 214 pounds." The handyman said through his chewing gum.

"What?" Madeline exclaimed. She was being cleaned out dry by paying for all of these repair calls. Ballet only paid her so much during the current off season and she was running out of funds, she would soon have no choice but to take that gallery gig in order to pay her bills now.

"That's the total, miss."

Madeline sighed and handed him the last of her money. "Fine. Take it."

"You know I'd probably feel worse for you if I didn't know you were such a klutz…"

Madeline paused and raised an eyebrow, "Excuse me?"

"All these fixes I've been comin' in and doin' for you? Man made, miss. Stop messing with your appliances."

"But I'm no-"

And then it hit Madeline. This had Sherlock Holmes written all over it. She slipped on her coat and marched out of her broken down flat once the handyman left.

One month having not seen the man- she was headed straight to 221b and was certainly going to give Sherlock Holmes a piece of her mind- no feelings spared.

* * *

**I know this was short :( Really bummed I lost the original. Next chapter is longer and is far more juicier and detailed as it should be. **


	2. Attacks and Perfection

**Yes! Nothing went wrong with this update! Wooo wooooo! **

**Thank you to: Majestic-Space-Duck, Midnight Valentina, Amehhh , Pretty Much A Big Deal , IKhandoZatman , KaiFukugawa, sailormajinmoon , HC, youronlydoll, MonzaBird , GrilledCheezus , Deathcab4kimmie , and Gwilwillith ****for your incredible comments. I love you all and want to knit you jumpers and make you tea. **

**Bless. **

**I have to say this chapter is very exciting. I hope you're all as excited by the end of it as I am. **

**Enjoy. **

* * *

Madeline knew this little trip was only partially about his sabotaging of her flat. It was also about the fact that she knew he had known the code to the safe from the start. But it was mostly because he had never given her an answer to the ultimate question that constantly stood between them. Sherlock Holmes had left her in the dark as far as his _"sentiments"_ (if any) were concerned. And he had not spoken or even attempted to contact her for a month. While she was moving out he'd conveniently lost himself in a case, therefore making her feel about as important to him as a lamp post... or a desk drawer.

Oh yes, this confrontation was about so much more than what it appeared to be. And as Madeline marched her way up the stairs of 221b- her body shaking from the absolute loathing that coursed through every vein in her body, she allowed herself to be very aware of every reason she had to confront him. She was determined to make that stupid beast of a man with his stupid nose and godforsaken curls that she couldn't get out of her head- _pay_.

Sherlock had heard the sound of the angry footsteps but did not have much time to process them as he sat at his microscope. His resignation to believe he'd never see Madeline Smith again had bitterly comforted him and allowed him to sink further into his state of denial and monotony of missing the one person he'd grown accustomed to making his every day the strangest, ridiculous, and most fascinating thing for the past 3 years.

Then suddenly that very person was shoving him off of his stool.

"Hey, asshole!" Madeline shouted as Sherlock staggered for a moment before catching his footing and standing up straight, looking back at her with wide, shocked eyes as he deduced her face and body and life for the past month within seconds. She'd been miserable in more way than one, and she was clearly here for revenge.

So with this large reunion in mind, Sherlock Holmes said the one thing he could think of:

"Yes?"

Not the best answer. Much to his confusion- this reply he gave only seemed to anger the 5 foot 3 lithe girl more, and dare he see the look of offense on her face as she spat, "That's all you have to say after 3 years and dropping me like a dead fly? _YES?_"

Sherlock Holmes was out of his depth. From the fire in her eyes and the attack stance her body was subconsciously taking, he realized that it wasn't just the jump in his chest he felt from seeing her that had effect on him, she had more influence on him than he dared to believe. His self admitted love for her (it was the most inconvenient, unfortunate thing that ever happened to him, as far as he saw) found him in his own compromising position of wanting to do strange things right then as he looked at her.

He wanted to feed her, strangely enough. Just because he knew she liked to eat so much.

He wanted to buy her a new jacket because he hated the one she had on (_thought I threw that one away before she left…_)

And weirdly enough, out of it all- one month without her presence, without her loud noises filling 221b and the sound of her voice and obnoxious laugh reserved for 6 year olds, he wanted nothing more than to force her face against his chest, feeling an unyielding need to touch the back of other arms against his fingers as he ran them lightly over her soft skin, bending over uncomfortably (as she was inconveniently far too short for him) in order to bury his face in her long brown hair and smell that annoyingly aromatic Argan oil shampoo he hated that she used, as it overpowered her natural scent of ballet studio and sugar.

But all he did was stand there and repeat what he knew he shouldn't.

"Yes."

Madeline growled from the depths of her soul, even Sherlock's eyes widened as he took a step back from her- never having seen her so angered since the day he met her- and that included the time he'd thrown a severed arm on her birthday cake in the refrigerator.

"I know that you have known the code since the moment we found out about the safe and I know it's you that's trying to sabotage my apartment!" Madeline shouted from her absolute deepest place of hellfire in her body.

Sherlock was quick on his feet, rather shocked by one of her accusations and ever so coolly ready with a reply as he always had the answers, "Of course I knew the code!" He spat rather arrogantly, "I can't help it you're all idiots! And no, for your information, it is not me who's sabotaging your flat...though it's not hard to deduce who-"

"Oh please, it's you-"

"No, it's not!"

"Yes it is!"

"For god sakes - no it's not!" Sherlock growled impatiently, "And what is that you're wearing! It's not that cold outside, why have you got 4 jumpers on?"

Flailing wildly, Madeline took off her four jumpers one by one, throwing them at Sherlock's chest, "Here! You tell me- Oh Great Consulting Detective! Here's your work, why don't you sign it? Nice touch breaking my air conditioning like that-"

"I told you, you silly girl- It wasn't me." He threw each one unceremoniously onto the floor as they came flying at him.

"You don't get to call me silly anymore- you're the one that's silly!" Madeline said breathlessly, the cold air hitting her bare arms, wishing she would have at least kept one of the sweaters on instead of needing to dramatically make her point.

"Really? Is that so?" His eyes burned into hers as he took a step forwards heatedly, silently taking notice of the tight tank top she was left in. "I'm not the one who's here making wildly inaccurate accusations to mask the true reason you're here."

A harsh silence stood between them. Madeline pursed her lips as she stared coldly at the man, so he was really going to bring it up now?

"No," Madeline shook her head speaking between her teeth, never had she been so upset and on the edge of breaking out into tears or into shouts- which she didn't know. "we are not going to talk about this on _your_ terms."

"You forget _silly_ girl- there is nothing to talk about." Sherlock's voice was low and cut through the tension like a knife. His anger getting the best of him. For some reason, around her, it always did.

"I wouldn't know-"

"Oh, you wouldn't, would you? Allow me to make this clear to you- I do not, nor have I ever had sentiments for you in any form that is more than an interest I might have in any case I take on. Have I made myself clear?"

There. He said it. He gave her an answer. And by his solid stance, heavy breathing, and stoically cold face- he meant it.

Madeline observed him as they continued to stand face to face, in silence. She couldn't help but realize he wanted her to feel his words, he wanted her to believe them, hurt from them- leave him alone because of them.

Whether his words were true or not, the resentment in Madeline had built up rather quickly right then. Just the fact that he wanted to hurt her, to make her feel something like this-

_Maybe he's being honest._

Her thoughts couldn't be met though; regardless she found herself angered. Angered at him for everything. For the way his mouth looked just then. For his not telling her about the safe. …and perhaps for him not loving her as she'd been so hopeful that he would. For not finding the documents- and for being so disappointing in a countless number of ways. She was beyond angered. She was livid.

In routine during moments of anger, Madeline would take to the ballet studio to dance out her frustrations. But it was closed today- and Madeline's anger and frustration was too sudden- too near- too strong. And having found a new form of venting one month earlier in the form of physically attacking Sherlock Holmes- that felt oh-so-good and far too satisfying, and with him standing there right in front of her… how could Madeline resist?

Before she knew it, her instincts had taken over and her body had answered for her before her synapsis could object.

Sherlock Holmes' chest was held together tightly between her thighs as she jumped and pushed him onto the cold hard kitchen floor, landing with a loud _OOF!_ Her weight nearly suffocated him as she sat atop his chest, punching him repeatedly in the shoulders as his hands reached up and tried to get a hold on her wild arms.

"Christ!" Sherlock shouted trying to tame her incredible amount of physical strength she had over him, "Jesus Christ! What is this- a new _thing_ you have?!"

Madeline continued to growl as she pounded on his chest, her anger and frustration finally having a lovely outlet in their source. She found physically abusing him, as he was constantly verbally abusing everyone that surrounded him- made her feel rather good and quite satisfied. Not that he didn't deserve every whack she gave him. He may have had the brains, but she had the strength.

Suddenly, much to Madeline's surprise, she began punching air. Her world shifted as she felt herself pulled into the air from behind, two arms now wrapped tightly around her torso as it took her a moment to realize that they belonged to none other than John Watson, who'd clearly just walked into the flat to have this sight greet him at the door.

"I know it was you- asshole!" Madeline shouted at Sherlock as she wriggled and attempted to release herself from the army doctor's arms, but was rather unsuccessful. "I know it was you!"

"It wasn't me!" Sherlock shouted as he stood up, cleaning off his shirt, "You crazy girl! And abuse goes both ways."

"HA! That's ironic coming from you!" Madeline shouted kicking her legs in the air, "John let me at him!"

"No! Madeline, calm down!" John shouted setting her down on the floor breathlessly as she surprisingly listened to his insistence, "It wasn't Sherlock!"

"Oh really? Then who was it?" Madeline said as she breathed heavily, pulling her dress down to cover her legs, still finding a moment to glare at the consulting detective who was now openly rolling his eyes at her.

"It was me."

"What?" Madeline said looking at John in disbelief. Her anger dropping like a fly.

"Oh, right. You don't get angry at him for doing it, but the moment you think it's me it's bloody World War Three." Sherlock grumbled.

"Shut up, Sherlock." John and Madeline said simultaneously. It had been a month since she'd been back in the two men's presence and it was truly as if she'd never left. And Madeline couldn't help but deny she missed seeing John Watson every day. He was like a brother to her. And his visits to her flat, while they were weekly-

_Wait._

"Oh my god," Madeline said softly with wide eyes, "It _was_ you. You visited me every week this past month! You're the one that's been sabotaging my apartment."

John looked at her guiltily, "Look, I'm so sorry Madeline. But I really saw no other way-"

"Truly, John," Sherlock said casually, deducing his best friend who stood before him, rolling his eyes as he knew precisely what was coming out of his mouth. "Sneaking around in order to cause a great inconvenience to one of your closest confidants… I'd say I'm rubbing off on you more than you'd like to think."

"Why did you do it, John?" Madeline said, "I don't understand. Do you know I'm having to do that show at the gallery now because my ballet isn't enough to cover all of the fees I've had to pay to get everything fixed? I can barely afford food now!"

"Yeah, don't worry, I have every intention of reimbursing you-" John countered quickly, "It's just I had to get you here and the only way to do that was to force you out of there."

"What? Why?"

"Sherlock has been driving me bloody mad, that's why!" John exclaimed. Finally, his gasket had exploded. "Constantly up the wall, case after case, constantly shooting things, and it's all because he's too much of a thick git to actually tell you the truth-"

"You're too late," Madeline said quietly looking away from both men, "He made himself clear."

"Really?" John exclaimed disbelievingly at Madeline.

"John-" Sherlock began with a warning tone, but it was too late. It was already out of his hands.

"He told you he has feelings for you then?" John exclaimed looking at Madeline with utter disbelief, speaking before thinking.

Madeline froze, Sherlock looked away, as the silence passed and the room stood still.

"Oh… He _didn't_." John continued hesitantly, his face slowly dropping into realization as he turned to look back at his best friend. " …sorry mate."

"You…" Madeline said numbly, unable to feel her legs or her cheeks; her heart unable to take any more twists and turns, "You…have feelings for me?"

John realized he'd spilled the beans. But he couldn't say he regretted it. Two years of knowing his best friend's love towards this girl had been hard enough to keep private when he lived with the both of them- constantly rolling his eyes at their equally stubborn demeanors knowing everything would just work itself out better if they just knew how the other felt.

Madeline was no idiot. There was no way John could take it back now. There it was, out in the open, needing to be dealt with.

Sherlock still hadn't replied to Madeline, taking it upon himself to instead to clench his jaw and observe the countertop which was so suddenly interesting to him.

John couldn't take watching her like this, looking like a lost child in search for a confirmation that was too slow to come. So John gave it to her.

"Of course he does, Maddie." John said softly. The use of her nickname garnering Sherlock's attention on him, but Madeline couldn't look away from Sherlock as she'd finally allowed herself to see what she knew was always there.

…What he knew was always there.

…What he'd kept from her, and just moments before- tried to lie to her in order to hurt her with.

The moment of relief and adoration in Madeline Smith was gone. Conveniently replaced with resentment, and anger at the man-child who stood before her and had caused her hell for the past three years as he'd pulled and pushed against her heart strings when he'd probably already known the answer for longer than he let on.

"You..." She said with a low warning- this certainly caught the consulting detective's attentions. Her blood beginning to boil once more." You son of a bitch-!" Madeline shouted as she ran and jumped towards him. The tips of her fingers catching on to the edge of his shirt before being pulled away as John Watson caught her in mid-air.

"Madeline, _no_!" John exclaimed as she kicked and squirmed in his arms, continuously trying to reach the man who was now quickly backing away in fear of her getting loose.

John hated to say it, but he couldn't help the smile on his face as she continued to growl and glare at Sherlock Holmes- who looked if anything lost, guilty, and confused. This was exactly how John Watson had pictured their feelings being ousted to one another- Sherlock having tried to get a rise out of her and then regretting it the moment Madeline became successfully angry at him and attacked him, for them-

It was perfect.

* * *

**Are you excited? I'm excited. Can I tell you how excited I am? I am me walking in and finding Benedict Cumberbatch laying naked in my bed with Star Trek hair excited. That's how excited I am. **


	3. Relief in Obligation

**Sorry for the long wait everyone, work was literally taking up every minute of my life. Unfortunately it's the only way I can survive on this planet so, yeah. ****It was awful and I'm so glad to be back. **

**Thank you for everyone who commented on the last chapter and to everyone for being so patient. This is an especially special chappy even if it is a touch shoer :) **

* * *

When Madeline was 8 years old, in her elementary school after lunch during recess she had been sent to the principal's office for the first time in her life. For lunch she'd had a meatball sandwich her mum had packed her- and in her messy manner had managed to get it all over her shirt. 10 year old Danny (her later to be twice fiancée) had teased her so much during recess about the red stains against her white shirt that ran up her protruding belly (her mother not having yet come up with the solution of ballet for her daughters health issues) that Madeline's rage had taken her over, and the small shy girl who wore glasses and had frizzy hair- jumped on the most popular boy in school and pulled on his ears as he screamed for mercy until the teacher on watch pulled her off of him.

That was the first time Madeline had been in trouble. But it was a long time since elementary school. It had been 20 years since that incident. And yet Madeline couldn't help the same feeling's she'd had sitting in the principals office as she did right then in 221b as she sat across from John Watson who looked at her, sitting in his chair in the living room as she sat in Sherlock's, her knees against her chin, as he stared at her in silence with an eyebrow that meant to guilt her.

"He started it." She said in a small voice. Sherlock had been sent to his room by John (much surprisingly) without reluctance from Sherlock. It had taken 20 minutes for John to calm Madeline's emotions down during which she had managed to poke at least 3 holes in his favourite jumper.

"Are we calm now?" John asked softly, Madeline nodded. "Good. Now. You wait here and sip on that tea Mrs. Hudson brought up… and I'll be right back. Okay?"

She began to chew on the sleeve of her own jumper she'd put back on and nodded.

* * *

Sherlock Holmes didn't know what he'd been expecting it to be like when it would come time for her to find out the general gist of his sentiments towards her. In fact, he hadn't been expecting it. He hadn't been expecting any of it. But no one could turn back time. And while the relief of no longer carrying this weight elated a lot of pressure and strange pain from Sherlock's shoulders- he hated the position he was in. He would have to face her.

And nothing was more frightening and out of the consulting detective's depth than facing someone he liked.

"I know you know, you know." Those were the first words John said as he closed the bedroom door behind him.

"Which riddle is this now?" Sherlock replied. He lay back on his bed, eyes closed, his hands together in his usual thoughtful manner as he attempted but failed to get lost in his mind palace yet again.

"About me and Mary." John cleared his throat as he pulled up a chair to the side of Sherlock's bed facing him. "You know I'm in love with her-"

"Obviously."

"Right. …So I'm here to tell you how impossible my life would be without her." John paused as he noticed no move or change in physicality from Sherlock who lay like a stone statue. "Sherlock… How are you feeling?"

The shockingly sentimental question caught Sherlock Holmes off guard as he poked an eye open to look at his friend with question, "I could ask the same of you."

"No, I mean… the _drugs._" Before continuing on his education of love, John wanted to be sure that Sherlock was in as good as a place with it as he seemed.

The month Madeline had been away John, Greg, and Mrs. Hudson had kept a close eye on Sherlock. Even Molly had participated in keeping his mind off of falling to old habits by sending him spare body parts without any argument. And while Sherlock took the parts without a word, it was most shocking to them that the lack of Madeline's presence didn't force him to fall into yet another downward spiral.

In fact- Sherlock Holmes had remained clean. There were times- _moments, _when John could see the shaking in Sherlock's hands as he would reach for his magnifying glass at a crime scene- but it was never spoken of. He supposed the cravings would always be there like with any other addict. It was time for John to accept and realize his best friend was actually human and that he wasn't indestructible.

All the more reason John felt relief in this moment he had right now, the moment he'd been waiting for- to finally be able to pull Sherlock in the right direction. Because when John intends on marrying Mary- he's going to have to leave 221b. Not his job with Sherlock, but the balance of the flat would be off. And Sherlock's life would be off. And it would take every inch of John's blunt explanations to Sherlock to help make him realize that he needed Madeline more than he wanted to believe. That from now on love could save him- not hurt him. So long as he let it.

"Quite fine, as you well know."

"Cravings?"

"Manageable."

"Any cocaine hidden in cabinets I should know about?"

"Any pornographic magazines hidden in your drawers I should know about-?"

_"Sherlock._" John warned sternly at the quick insult.

"No." Sherlock sighed and closed his eyes again. "Boring. The slew of cases has been enough to keep me at hand-"

"Do you know how painful it is to go through your life without the person you love?"

"Oh _god _John-" Sherlock rolled his eyes with a groan at the difficult subject, "Truly you've seen too much Oprah"

"No, No- come on, I'm serious here. I mean… think about it Sherlock." John declared, "It's been _three _years of her in our lives and you _barely _held on to your indifferent front. I know you've slipped up with her- allowed yourself to get close- physically and emotionally, then you pull away, then she pulls away. Imagine the rest of your life? You think fighting your drug addiction to the other side was bad- love is even worse."

"I could ruin her."

Sherlock's grunt of an answer caught John off guard. It was almost as if he was talking to himself and it was the most real thing John thought he could have ever heard from Sherlock's mouth.

"You could also be the best thing for her. And she could be the best thing for you… if you don't kill each other first that is. …Sherlock, you can't keep doing what you were doing- buying out her flat offers- yes, I know that was you doing that before she found that hole in the wall she lives in now right when you'd accepted to let her go. This really is your last chance. You saw how Lucy's life ended- she wanted the life, the chances that you're currently living. You have them all- and yet you're not taking them! Madeline deserves more from you."

Sherlock stayed silent staring at the ceiling, his palms laying on his chest. His face lost in thought.

"It's okay to _feel_, Sherlock." John finished, "You're not any weaker to anyone but _her._ And to be honest, that's a good thing for you. If you can trust her enough to take care of it- which you'd be mad not to… then I don't see what's holding you back anymore."

"I…" Sherlock struggled for wording till his eyes dropped to the side to stare at his best friend, and for the first time- would ask him question's he'd never uttered before. "What do I do… how do I do this?"

"Well… maybe start by talking with her? Then… telling her you love her?"

"You know I never say that- and _WILL _never say that-"

"Well then tell her you want to be with her. Start there. Maybe one day, when you find you can- you can admit the love bit. For now- Sherlock, just bloody define what she is to you. And tell her."

After a deep breath, Sherlock found he was stuck without a choice. And he'd never been so relieved to be there.

"Alright."

* * *

**Cliff-Hanger! Very special chapter coming up next- and SOOOOOON. I promise. I mean. Next day or two soon. So keep an eye peeled. I'm off work till tuesday! Wooohooooo! **


	4. Endearing Advice

**Yes! Another update! **

**Oh and I was reminded by my beta to mention this... in case you haven't noticed by the poster design, the song choice in the title, the ratings change, and the themes being played in this part so far- this part is much _lighter _than the others. So expect that. This is definitely why when people ask me why did I split this series into parts- it's because the tones for each and the themes are different for each. And an interlude of watching Madeline and Sherlock comedically and reeallly awkwardly bang into each other trying to find the balance of a relationship isn't normal to read when 4 chapters ago it was 3 months prior and Sherlock was fighting off his last bit of cocain addiction. Anyways, hope that makes sense. Sorry for the little explanation but I didn't want to catch anyone off guard in case they hadn't noticed :) **

**Enjoy my loves! **

* * *

**10 minutes later.**

The clock was louder than usual. Not that it had literally gotten louder, of course. But in that moment it felt like the only noise being made in 221b.

This was perhaps the strangest beginning to a relationship that Madeline had ever experienced. She and Sherlock sat across from each other (him in his chair, she in John's), in silence. He stared at her- no, observed her. Deduced her. It was nerve wracking and all too apparent that John had convinced Sherlock to leave the confines of his room, before the excusing himself to avoid the inevitable awkwardness of Sherlock attempting….emotions.

"I've never seen a proper romantic-type relationship."

Sherlock's voice broke through the silence. She looked at him curiously, his face remained unchanged, his fingers steepling beneath his chin as he rubbed his thumbs across his lower lip repeatedly.

"Uhm… Okay. …well you know there's John and Mary-"

"No relationship John has had is proper." Sherlock quickly disregarded the comment with a wave of his hand.

"…Okay."

Madeline didn't know how to respond, or where this was headed. A part of her no longer felt ashamed for loving this man now that she knew he felt the same for her. But that was something- an admission, that would not come cleanly _from_ Sherlock without John Watson there to buffer.

"Perhaps I… _feel_ for you. Perhaps I'm not entirely who I believed I was." His sentiment shocked her, maybe she was wrong? "I've been utterly miserable since the day I met you." Or maybe she was right."You are the most annoyingly utterly inconvenience. You've made my life a living hell. I've never been able to deduce you- and I hate that. And you'd think I hate you. You're annoying. You eat far too much. You have terrible fashion taste. You run into things. You snort when you laugh. I should hate you- you annoying, bright eyed, emotional silly girl-"

"I'm sorry," Madeline interrupted with the raise of her hand, "Is this supposed to be you romancing me?"

Sherlock's eyes squinted as he bit his bottom lip for a moment, "I find myself thinking back to when you first left 221B and I hate myself for it, and I hate myself now, because I think I want you to kiss me again."

Madeline's cheeks began to burn. She could feel the heat spread from her toes all the way up to her ears. His tone was entirely technical, as if he were discussing a scientific fact.

"Do you… want me t-"

"Won't be necessary."

"Oh. …Okay." The disappointment and confusion most certainly came through in her face as she looked at him as if he were mad.

"Perhaps later."

"Alright."

_Silence. _

"Good!"

And if things couldn't have gotten any more awkward- Sherlock stood up and as he passed her to head towards the kitchen- patted her on the back nearly knocking her forwards.

* * *

**3 hours Later.**

"He _patted_ you on the _back?"_ Mary's face was contorted in absolute confusion. That night Madeline had headed back to her own flat silently as Sherlock had casually gone back to his lab work in the kitchen. Madeline was not the sort of girl that had ever shared 'man' troubles with others, but she was out of her depth with this one.

She didn't know what she should have been expecting- in her fanciful mind she imagined once admitting emotions for her- Sherlock Holmes would dispose of his cold demeanor (at least if only towards her), wrapping her up in his arms and taking her right there on the couch- making sweet love to her with just a hint of roughness and a million tricks he'd somehow known!

But instead he gave her an awkward painful grin...

And a pat.

"What does that mean? Does that mean we're…. a couple?" Madeline questioned, eyeing her glass of wine which she had no interest in touching as her mind was moving a mile a minute.

"I'm not sure what it means," Mary shrugged, "John's never patted me on the back. One time he did fist bump me though. But that was when he met my brother and didn't want to kiss me in front of him."

"Is this what it's going to be like then?" Madeline mused unhappily, "Us with our feelings out and pats all around?"

Right then, like clockwork, her phone vibrated.

"It's Sherlock." Madeline commented as she read the text.

_Tomorrow 8pm. 221b._

_SH_

"A date!" Mary exclaimed with the clap of her hands and a wide smile, "Oh thank god, with each date you and Sherlock have- the closer John gets to proposing."

Madeline raised a brow at her in amusement.

"Oh please, darling," Mary snorted, "I can see right through that short little doctor even more than Sherlock does."

"I wouldn't tell him that." Madeline giggled, "So… should I go?"

"Well it's not like he was really asking you, was he?"

With a sigh, Madeline let her mobile fall on top of one of her unpacked boxes. Months and counting- she'd still not yet managed to unpack her life in her slowly dying flat.

* * *

**8:42pm. 221B. The Next Day.**

"Hold that still." Sherlock instructed to Madeline whose hands were shaking.

"Are y-you sure?"

"Yes!"

"Alright bu-"

"Yes right there!" He exclaimed excitedly with wide eyes and the horrified smile that seemed to adorn his face in the most inopportune moments, "Haha! Do you feel _that?!_"

"…Can I let go now?"

"Just let me stick it in first-"

"Alright fine, just get it over with."

Madeline groaned as she tried to keep the bile down her throat. What Madeline thought was going to be a date, turn out to be nearly an hour of her helping Sherlock dissect a human heart on the kitchen island. Apparently, it had something to do with his current case. John was out following a lead on it and Madeline (dressed in her only nice dress) was currently done at trying to not get heart pieces stuck on it as she held the incision open for him to dig for something she didn't know.

"There." Sherlock declared as he pulled out the shrapnel from the cavity with a smile. "Murder."

"What's that?" Madeline was suddenly curious as she eyed the little white metal plate.

"Information." Sherlock said placing it in a ziplock back, "A very old trick."

"So, did you solve the case then?"

"Of course I did." Sherlock replied almost offended.

Never before had the urge to smack the living daylights out of him struck Madeline so hard.

And before Madeline could reply with a snarky comment about his blatant arrogance, terrible date choice, and blatant lack for social conduct- John's heavy footsteps could be heard coming up the stairs as his voice boomed through the flat.

"Hey, Sherlock I- Oh!" His eyes went wide at the sight before him. Madeline and Sherlock both dressed in their best outfits with rubber gloves up to their elbows and the heart of the body that Molly had ordered him specifically not to take but to which John had complied in helping him sneak out of Bart's. "Madeline! What are you doing here?"

"She's dissecting our victim's heart with me," Sherlock commented with overt annoyance in his tone, "I thought that was obvious."

With a shrug, the consulting detective patted her twice on the shoulder as he got up and walked towards his mobile to give Lestrade a call on the break in the case.

* * *

**20 minutes later.**

"Alright, Sherlock-" John repeated for the fourth time with great aggravation, placing his fingers against the bridge of his nose and squeezing, John leaned over his chair as he watched Sherlock sit with absolute nonchalance in his chair as if he was quite certain he'd done nothing wrong. "_THAT-_ was NOT a date-"

"Who said it was a _date_?" Sherlock shrugged and spat the word, attempting to put a lack of importance on the whole event. Madeline had left the moment John had walked in- nearly anxious to get out of 221b and the strange and confusing predicament she found herself in.

"Then why did you invite her over?"

"So she could help me dissect..." The consulting detective rolled his eyes with a groan, never wanting to admit how much he really missed her presence, her intoxicating scent- her eating. "Again, truly John- I thought that was obvious. We solved our case- didn't we!"

"Yeah, alright Sherlock." John sighed, a sudden look of dread overcoming his face as he took a seat in his own chair, facing Sherlock gravely. "Listen, this is my arena. This is going to be incredibly scarring but I have no choice…"

Sherlock's eyebrow raised in confusion, interest, and slight fear.

"Tell me…." John swallowed his words for a moment as he looked down- almost pained to say them. "Tell me what you… want… to… _do_… to. Her." The expression of distaste and confusion on Sherlock's face was more than enough to make John regret his choice of questioning, "Fine alright no, nope- our friendship doesn't go that way, that's good. Good we found that out."

"Perhaps a line of inquiry that doesn't alarm you."

This time it was John's turn to look at Sherlock with slight awe. Unlike the past when John had tried to speak to Sherlock about his own advice- Sherlock would always cut him off as if he knew what he was going to say. And he did. But not this time. This time John's best friend, possibly the smartest, most cleverest man in the world was entirely out of his depth and actually needed and _wanted _to hear advice. He waited patiently in his seat.

"Sherlock, tell her." John stated bluntly. "Tell her you're in love with her."

"No. Absolutely not."

"Why?"

"Besides the obvious?"

"What's the obvious?"

Sherlock would not answer.

It had been a week of strange moments in 221b. Not just strange moments- but first moments. This was a part of Sherlock John had never seen. Why was he so distant? And most importantly, what had ran through John's mind as it always had from the moment he'd first met the consulting detective- what had happened to him to make him the way he was?

John sighed impatiently, "Sherlock, what's the obvious?"

"Forget it." He replied quickly with a groan, as if the conversation was tiring him.

"Well, whatever the "_obvious_" to you is I'm sure it's not obvious to the rest of us as usual. So grow up you big baby, and figure this out before you keep you and her in limbo for long enough for her to need her own country's Medicare."

With a roll of his eyes, Sherlock was certain to make it seem as if this was the last thing he wanted to hear, "Anything else, _Guru Watson_ with 27 ex-girlfriends?"

"Yeah," John replied without hesitation, "Stop patting her on the back you big lump. _And _take her out on a REAL date. Oh! And also- that's still 27 more girlfriends than you've ever had."

As Sherlock rolled his eyes yet again to say that nothing in this world could possibly interest him any less, John sipped on his tea with a smile on his face. He knew the day would come when he would have the upper hand on Sherlock Holmes.

* * *

**That Same Night. Madeline's Flat.**

"He's treating me like a lamp again." Madeline said in between bites of her sad-day-sandwich.

"What, more pats on the back?" Mary hummed in approval as she took a bite of her ice-cream bowl. "John told me about your little dissecting bit."

"I mean, I get it. I'm not confused now, I know he likes me that's out there so that must mean the next step is to be together, but…" She shook her head.

"Well, at the very least it's nice to see him stare at you longingly without that frightened look of confusion in his eyes. Now it's just forced determination that's really not working in his direction."

Madeline giggled as she felt her cheeks flush at the thought of him. _Nearly 30 and still giggling. Really Madeline? _She thought to herself. "He never looked at me like that."

"Boy oh boy, you still don't get it, do you love?" Mary shook her head with a smile, "Strangest date ever, I reckon."

"I don't think it was a date. I was really dressed up. And now I have heart valve on my only nice dress so that's done for."

"What do you want to do with him?"

Madeline raised both of her eyebrows in surprise, "Excuse me?"

"Oh, come on!" Mary egged on excitedly, "It's just us girls! John's like a brother to you, Sherlock's a friend- strangely enough, with me, you and I are all we have to keep female friendship alive we can share things like this."

"You mean like on Sex and the City?!" Madeline asked excited.

"Yes except for the 'sex' bit regarding you," Mary winced, "No offense dear, but how long has it been?"

"I don't wanna talk about it." Madeline recounted sadly in-between chews.

"So, clearly you've thought about it…"

"Having my life saved by him, having myself put in_ danger_ by him…"

"Of course-"

"_Of course…_ Three years living with that man, sharing a bed on and off with him- surrounded by him," Madeline said miserably as she looked up at Mary, "You bet your skinny English ass I thought about it. I want to do…. _Everything._ And I mean everything."

"Come on, tell me how long."

"Three years?"

"What!" Mary exclaimed in horror, "Jesus Christ almighty! I think you scientifically just got your virginity back."

"Well, what do you expect! Its been awhile. The last person I had sex with was Danny and in case you haven't noticed- finding out I was adopted and that I _apparently _knew the location of these fucking documents that I still can't find and that my biological brother as well as his slightly masochistic boyfriend and every crime organization were going to tear me apart until I found them all the while being kidnapped and also constantly being stalked by Mycroft's men as well as Sherlock's fall into drug addiction at my rescue which has nearly taken him a _year _to finally get out of and over-" She took a deep breath, "Took up just a _bit _of my time. Sorry I didn't have time to have all that awesome _sex_ I'm so good at having with a man some have considered a-sexual." The girls laughed as Madeline was perhaps the girl with the strangest history in all of England. Madeline went silent for a moment as she shook her head. "Is it… normal?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean… is it okay to _actually feel _happy?" Madeline sighed, "I'm a happy person in general, but since learning about Sherlock's real thoughts towards me yesterday I've finally felt that I have _something _to look forward to in my life. That he's there and that I'm not some silly girl who's been crazy about a man who would never like her in return…That now, at the best time it seems everyone's finally realizing that there never really were any documents to start off with- that I'm no longer anyone's target…That I have a great dance career, a forced art exhibit to pay my bloody bills for my breaking flat- but still… and that I have a man that I've admired for so many years finally open up with him when no one else could."

"Darling," Mary said softly grabbing Madeline's hand, "_Yes_. It's okay that we get a little lightness around here. You deserve it. …even if it is _Sherlock Holmes_ you want." Madeline laughed lightly, they couldn't have been more poorly matched and yet so well matched. "Maybe this is the universe telling you happiness is here again…It can't be dark always, Love."

Madeline smiled at her friend as Mary finished.

"Now, that oaf wouldn't know what to do with a girl he liked if she shared a bed with him for three years." Madeline broke out in snorts, "His solution to it all was to treat you like a piece of furniture. Well- his secret's out now. He can't hide from you or it now. That's clearly where the pats are coming from."

"So… what do I do?"

"It's not all him, love, it's also _you_. You're the emotional, affectionate one. Yes, you're with Sherlock Holmes, disengaged,- but he's with _you_. …So don't leave yourself at the door."

"Right. But now I sort of have more reign with him." Madeline said worriedly, "He's only observed my affection with John and you and Mrs. Hudson and Michael but he's never been on the end of it- Well, except for twice which he promptly started, cut short, then basically shit all over. Won't it freak him out if I just explode _that part _of my personality on him? It's the only part he's never really experienced before except for those two failed attempts."

Mary shrugged, "It doesn't matter. No one knows people better than Sherlock. He knows exactly who you are and believe it or not- while I barely can myself, no offense- it's _everything_ about you he seems to like _including_ that which is the incredible part." Madeline nodded to Mary's advice in agreement as she could barely believe it herself as well; Mary leaned forward and raised an eyebrow wickedly, "You have the relationship, love. Next date? Do what you do best. And that's to do _exactly_ what you feel you want."

* * *

**I seriously can't wait to post the next chapter. It's the funnest one I've written so far. **

**Please comment if you're still around! I miss all of your lovely voices **


	5. The Worst First Date

**Wow… you all won't believe it. So, for the past 3 chapters I stopped getting emails telling me I had reviews. So basically- I didn't know any of you were here. I thought it was the strangest thing, that no one was reading anymore. Then, I saw I had double-digit emails in my spam- low and behold there you all were. So sad I thought I'd lost you all! Haha but when I read through all of your messages my heart basically burst.**

**I want to thank EVERYONE whose commented in these last 3 or 4 chapters: FuchsiaGrasshopper, Eeyore1245 , OrthoEllis, TheDoctorsMistress , youronlydoll, IKhandoZatman , sailormajinmoon , shallioop, GrilledCheezus, MonzaBird, Gwilwillith, firewieldermera , Amehhh, HC , I am Tiny , jogurtude-tumblr, KijoKuroi , aaaarggh, Intrigued, imperfectly-perfected , VeryIntrigued , LibraryLover, CS , Lyra Raine Sparrow, and ****guest(s) *aka all of you people without actual accounts and still commenting***

** I love you all and adore everything you've all written. Seriously. **

**Extra special chapter. I spent a bit more time on this one, I hope you all enjoy.**

* * *

_Well, if it wasn't awkward before…_

Madeline hated this. She really hated this.

This was not as she'd expected her first date with Sherlock Holmes to be like.

"Um, a salad, please." Madeline ordered, her heart breaking as she said the forbidden word- handing the menu back to the waitress.

"And you, sir?"

If everything wasn't already already incredibly awkward as Sherlock hadn't spoken to her since they sat at the restaurant and she certainly had nothing to say as her nerves took over- and there was now the blushing waitress who clearly ogled Sherlock. Madeline knew he noticed- of course he did. He was aware of everyone and everything- and there was no way he could miss the red cheeks and obvious eyes that Cindy (as her name tag said) was giving the consulting detective.

Some women, those who might be more prone to jealousy, would typically react the way one might for a member of the envious human species- marking their territory with a biting remark or damning glance. But Madeline was not of that sort. Sherlock himself represented perhaps the most jealous type of person (his glare at the cab driver on their way here for eyeing Madeline's legs was enough to inform her on the subject and his constant protection and insistance that John Watson was in fact his was _more_ than enough) but Madeline was not. So instead of hating the girl...she really couldn't blame her.

_Look, look all you want. …Jesus Christ I don't blame you. Look at him in that purple shirt, that hair, jesus smell him- then you're done, you're officially done when that happens-_

"Nothing." Sherlock said, sighing annoyed as he handed back the menu to the waitress. She waited, watching him as if she had misheard, Madeline also looked at Sherlock with confusion. She knew he didn't eat but- why go to a restaurant then? Especially one as absurdly fancy as this. "Give us a moment, please."

Reluctantly, Cindy left the table, her eyes still on the consulting detective as she walked away.

Sherlock's eyes, meanwhile- had never left Madeline. His face remained stoic. _Is he angry with me? ...already? _Finally, his fingers came to his lips as he looked around in thought before looking back at Madeline with eyes she felt looked straight through her.

"Is this proper?"

"What?"

"From what I've read in women's magazines," Sherlock continued in an analytical tone, "This is how a first outing is supposed to go, yes?"

"I… Um…" Madeline was caught off guard by his inquisitive question. He'd been silent the whole night. Even when he'd come to pick her up for them to walk to the restaurant he hadn't said a word. He only nodded at her attire and started walking without her, to which she had to take very large steps to catch up with him until they reached the restaurant. "I guess? …Yes?"

"Awkward for the most part. Nervous eating. Not truly presenting oneself- only putting the best foot forward which in time will only hurt the alliance, a boring finish in which the male tries to attempt at sexual intercourse with the female and the female rejects but accepts a bland pointless kiss." Sherlock quirked an eyebrow at Madeline's scrunched face at his commentary. "…Yes?"

"Yeah, I guess." She shrugged, "That sounds pretty typical."

A moment passed as Sherlock's words shook the both of them to their core, "Are we typical?"

Immediately, Madeline's was beyond surprised at his observation. His words hung heavy and suddenly they were relieved. Sherlock stating the most blatant deduction, for the first time ever- was actually the right thing to say. Madeline smiled softly at the man before her.

"Can I get you anything, Mr. Holmes?"

_Damnit Cindy! _Madeline thought annoyed. Now that the thickness in the air was cleared, Madeline wanted no more of this annoying waitress... and it was as if Sherlock had read her mind.

"No." Sherlock said quickly, standing up and throwing more than enough money on the table to cover Madeline's salad. With a jump in her feet, Madeline stood up quickly as well. Much to her surprise, Sherlock grabbed her coat and helped her in it before putting on his own. This was the first awareness or indication that Sherlock had actually realized that this was a date and not just a regular outing. "We'll be on our way."

Once more, Sherlock began walking ahead. Madeline had to speed up to catch up with him. (While his gentlemanly manners were clearly in his high upbringing; as he'd helped her with her coat, pulled out her chair, and opened the doors- the matter of walking would have to be something she'd have to mention. His long limbs were too quick for her short ones)

When they reached outside the restaurant, both of them stood. Sherlock looked out to the street as Madeline looked to him waiting for the next instruction.

"Lestrade messaged me with a murder two hours ago," Sherlock said casually. "John's at the morgue now." He looked back at her with an excited glint in his eyes that only a juicy case could bring, "What do you say?"

Madeline quirked an eyebrow as she looked up at him in disbelief, "You put off a case for me?"

Sherlock's eyebrows came together as he replied with obviousness, "Not exactly, it was a 4 and John's been texting me pictures and information throughout the night."

Madeline nodded her head, "Ah, yeah that sounds about right." With a sigh she shrugged- it was just like 3 months ago and she'd lived at 221b. She missed her boys. "Let's go see some dead bodies."

In an instant Sherlock's arm was up in the air. When they got in the cab, Madeline was certain their first and only stop would be the morgue, but was confused when Sherlock didn't instruct the taxi driver to St. Bart's.

"One stop on the way."

* * *

Madeline hummed, her eyes closed as she bit into her giant burrito, mild sauce dripping down her chin. They sat at the corner table on the pavement outside the food stand, Sherlock tapping his fingers on the table.

"I have deduced over the course of almost three years of living together that you are the absolute opposite of a calm and rational person and therefore are prone to doing the exact opposite of what you are told." Sherlock said casually, looking at Madeline who stared back at him with wide eyes and a guilty expression, her cheeks filled with burrito, "And yet you are also the sort to never not be exactly who you are and therefore I must admit to you- if you do not already know, those who are any other sort in order to appear different for no reason possibly is absolutely abhorrent and annoying… and juvenile."

Madeline swallowed and spoke with an as-a-matter-of-factly tone, "You do realize you're supposed to be nice to people when you're on a date with them-"

"Never order a salad again." Sherlock demanded, his eyes hard as stone before they came into a squinting glare at her as she knew he was attempting to deduce her again, "What were you hoping to accomplish with that, precisely?"

"What do you mean?" She looked around her innocently.

"You hate foods with green in them."

"No I don't!" She replied defensively.

"Candy doesn't count." Sherlock said with a sigh and roll of his eyes. "I'll ask again, the point of your order?"

"Well," Madeline began, this was the strangest conversation she'd perhaps ever had with the consulting detective. And _that_ was saying something. "_You're_ the consulting detective- you tell me."

"I know precisely why, but I want to hear you say it."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Because what? You know- how about this- I have a question for you oh-mighty consulting Englishman-" Sherlock's face immediately contorted quickly into offense at her use of his Englishness as an insult. "Why take me, a girl who microwaves doughnuts for a fancy dinner- to that uppity, snooty," Madeline searched for words, "posh, stick-up-your-butt-place-"

"You realize we're missing a murder for this."

"WITH, might I add," She exclaimed with a finger up, "_With_, a waitress who basically sexed you up with her eyes." Sherlock's eyebrows lowered as he looked around to make sure no one heard the comment that was out of his depth. Madeline's voice got louder as she felt her pressure rise, "So, why don't you tell me! Hmm?"

"Because it's what people do on dates."

"And why did I order a salad?"

"Because that's what people do on dates." Sherlock looked at Madeline with wicked eyes, both of them attempting to hide their smirks as their anger was towards the same thing- themselves and societal standards that they both abhorred that they'd subconsciously followed.

"…and why did we do that?" Madeline asked quietly, a light smile on her face.

"Because that's what people do." Sherlock hated the words of her late biological brother, almost as much as he hated that they had acted so out of character in order to fulfill a norm that they had no knowledge of or any desire in- all because it was expected of them.

Most out of character. If Madeline and Sherlock had anything in common- it was that neither conformed to what was expected of them. As neither of them were normal or expectant.

"So." Sherlock said with a lift of his eyebrows and a tilt of his head as Madeline finished her burrito at her usual lightening speed.

"So…" She replied waiting for him.

"Ready to go see a murder?"

"Absolutely."

* * *

**St. Bart's**

"So there's an incision in her… chest… area…" Molly struggled to say. Sherlock rolled his eyes with a sigh as he continued to examine the body, not bothering to mention how utterly silly it was that she, a pathologist, couldn't say the word '_breasts_' in front of him. "Madeline! You look really nice tonight, by the way!" Molly exclaimed with a bright smile, "Special event? Another ballet performance?"

"Uhm…" Madeline searched for the words, wondering if Sherlock wanted people to know that the most impossible thing had happened- that he was out on a date. "We..."

"Madeline and I have spent the evening thus far, together." Sherlock said swiftly, as he took out his magnifying square and looked closely at the incisions to the dead body, "We had dinner."

Molly's face had only been this shocked one other time- and that was when Sherlock Holmes had kissed her on the cheek during Christmas. Looking back and forth between them not knowing what to say, she stuttered for words. "I… Um… congratulations?"

"Thanks, Molly." Madeline replied, "You seem happy too!"

"Oh, well," She blushed as she looked down, fooling around with the floppy flower in her hair, "Its been a nice couple of months."

"Thought it had been half a year, Molly?" Sherlock spoke his deduction he'd clearly made six months prior in a casual manner.

"I-uh-do-" Molly stuttered with a smile, her cheeks and ears turning red, "You know?"

"Of course I know. You two are less inconspicuous than an atomic bomb." Sherlock stood up and cleared his throat as he slapped off his latex gloves. Madeline watched with wide eyes, not paying attention to the conversation at all- her eyes glued to Sherlock's hands ridding themselves of those thin gloves, his long fingers so elegant and-

"Sherlock, Madeline-" John Watson exclaimed as he walked into the morgue with the lab specimen he'd been looking at in the other room in his hand, looking between them confused. Sherlock looked at John in his usual knowing arrogant manner as Madeline was snapped out of her realization of a new and improved fetish for Sherlock's hands. "What the bloody hell are you both doing here? Shouldn't you two be on a date?"

"We are." Sherlock and Madeline replied simultaneously, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world that they should be there.

John sighed hopelessly, "So, solved it then?"

"Halfway." Sherlock replied.

"Halfway? But you seem satisfied?" John looked at Sherlock's casual manner curiously, "Someone cut up her chest for no reason."

"Yes. Found anything in the blood test?"

"Nope, nothing. Was anything taken?"

"No," Molly shook her head. "Nothing."

"So…" Madeline inquired curiously, "Someone just opened up her chest for… no reason?"

"She's a prostitute." Sherlock commented.

"You think maybe she was had some bad connections?" John proposed, but Sherlock shook his head.

"No, she was picked at random."

"But why?" Madeline thought her question would go over smoothly as the conversation had been going, but it was surprising when the room went silent at Sherlock's slow and silent reaction. He looked back at her with an expression she couldn't read. An expression no one could read, apparently. John's face scrunched, his lips pursed as he looked at Sherlock curiously.

Taking a deep breath and with strange perkiness, Sherlock suggested, "Time to go?"

* * *

The cab ride back to 221b was (repeatedly for the night) awkward. This was a constant theme of the night. Madeline sat in between John and Sherlock. It was like old times- _before_ she had moved out three months ago. Which reminded her...

"Um," She cleared her throat, leaning forwards getting the attention of the driver, "We'll actually be making two stops."

"What?" John said slightly crestfallen, "Madeline no, come on- the night is still sort of young-

"No, it's alright-"

"Sherlock," John leaned forward looking at the consulting detective who was very intent to stare out the window- absolutely stoic. "Don't you have anything to say?"

A moment or two of silence passed before Sherlock opened his mouth, and once more that night, quite unexplainably, the right thing came out.

"Mrs. Hudson baked a double chocolate cake for us this afternoon after John told her we had our first date."

"Only one stop, please." Madeline said quickly to the driver, sitting back in her seat. Silence filled the cab till John turned his head towards Madeline and said in a quiet voice regarding Sherlock's determinedly cold demeanor.

"Has he been like this all night?"

"Basically." She said back softly.

John smiled lightly, "It's almost like you never left."

Out of the corner of his eye, Sherlock saw Madeline grab John's hand and give it a squeeze.

* * *

Arriving back at 221b, after a short conversation and welcoming her home- John headed upstairs as Madeline sat in his chair kicking her shoes off, tucking her legs beneath her and draping her short dress over her knees. The fire was lit, it was dark outside, the windows fogging from the cold… she smiled contently to herself- 221b had become her home and she realized then it always would be. She was not reminiscing about her current flat.

Sherlock was in the kitchen banging around with something or another. He hadn't been much of himself the whole night. But then again- neither had she. Right then, Mary's words filled her head, _"No one knows people better than Sherlock. He knows exactly who you are and believe it or not- it's everything about you he seems to like… You have the relationship, love. Next date? Do what you do best. …and that's do exactly what you feel you want."_

Of course Mary had been right. Madeline had left almost all of her unique attributes behind. And she'd lived with this man for three years. He'd pumped her stomach, shot a spider for her… injected himself for her (a memory she'd prefer to not dwell on). They'd fought like cats and dogs and she'd seen him at his absolute worst. So why were they playing pretend?

Sherlock set the plate of cake in front of Madeline with a fork on the table and walked back to the kitchen quickly- mumbling something or another about checking the temperature of some eyeballs he'd had cooking while he'd been out.

He'd… he'd gotten her cake. Well, he hadn't gotten it. He'd… cut her a piece (a rather big one, much to her pleasure), and gotten her a fork and a napkin. Sherlock Holmes, who did little to none laborious work for anyone- had put a plate in front of her …a plate that had something on it other than a severed body part.

Without a second thought- without any thought really (in proper Madeline fashion), she felt herself return to who she was and did the unthinkable and predictable which was, doing exactly what she wanted in that moment.

Sherlock's eyes widened as he heard a thump and turned around as he stood in the kitchen- eyeballs in hand as Madeline jumped off John's chair- leaping off of it and doing a jetée over to the kitchen, and jumping onto him quickly, wrapping her legs around his slender waist- slapping her hands on both of his sharp cheeks as his arms subconsciously wrapped around her- his eyes wide as she leaned down with every intention of slamming her lips anxiously against his own- but instead the laws of gravity could not be defied-

as the shock of the sudden weight and push of Madeline's extremely dense body against his own, Sherlock fell flat on his back with a loud 'OOF!' adding insult to injury with Madeline on top of him. Sherlock began to cough violently as Madeline cried out, "Ow! Fuck! My knees!"

Groaning she rolled off of him to lay on the cold kitchen floor, clutching her knees in pain as her eyes watered.

"Christ!" Sherlock exclaimed as his fingers massaged his chest, his back arching in pain as his face contorted into a wince, "What the-"

But his words were promptly cut off as one huge loud POP sound shocked Madeline and Sherlock out of the nursing of their body parts from Madeline's poorly thought out decision. Both of them laying on the floor side by side glanced at one another for a moment, before their gazes looked directly up above them to see smoke drifting across to the island leaving from the direction of the microwave.

"Um… what was that? Eyeballs?" Madeline inquired.

"No." Sherlock replied plainly.

"What is it then?" Madeline looked at him to watch his profile, his perfect... perfect prof-

"A heart."

Her eyebrows raised in surprise, in all the years of living with him- Sherlock Holmes had found very little interest in the human heart.

"You seem really interested in that body part lately." She suggested, but immediately her teasing was met with a roll of his eyes.

"This is not some deep metaphor you overly romantic-"

"Three." Madeline stated, staring at him pointedly as she crossed her arms and began to tap her food against the wall. Her comment caught Sherlock's attention as he finally looked at her, watching her raise three of her fingers in accusation.

Sherlock's face contorted, "What?"

"That's three times you've insulted me this night so far."

"…Oh. Well," Sherlock searched for words, even he realized (especially after the 2 hour long lecture John gave him before the date on the importance of not insulting one's date) that he was not supposed to do that. "That's less than, usual, you at least have to admit that."

"That is true-" Madeline said with a shrug and a light laugh. And in that moment Sherlock was reminded how lovely Madeline's carefree attitude about individuality was. "But here- let me help you a bit- your choice of restaurant sucked." Sherlock looked at her suddenly offended, "When you come to someone's door to pick them up- you don't knock on the door say hello to them and then walk away- you wait for them," Madeline instructed, "Oh, and you probably shouldn't be putting internal organs in the microwave when you take a girl home."

Sherlock's eyes burned with interest as he watched her indifference, "I'm not going to change."

Madeline's face broke nto a slow and knowing smile, "I don't want you to. You do what you feel is best, Sherlock. …I wanted to be with you, not a soft suddenly romanticized version of you. It's just…"

"Less insults next time?"

"If it can be helped. It would be most beneficial to you."

"And what happens if it can't?" He inquired with a raised eyebrow.

"Then I'll just have to dig into you like I just did right now." Madeline said brightly with a teasing smile on her face. "You know I never back down from a fight."

Silence fell between them- the air sweet and daring. It was as if they had spent the whole awful date night waiting for a moment like this. A moment in which they were both themselves- teasing and lightly ripping into each other in 221b.

"You should leave your hearse of a flat." Sherlock stated suddenly looking away from her once more, observing the clouds of smoke above; Madeline raised an eyebrow.

"Why, miss me?"

"Absolutely not. You're loud, messy, and eat far too much."

"You're broody, say all the wrong things at the wrong time and have a disturbing penchant for serial killings."

"I really don't see a problem with the last one."

Silence.

"...I miss my cake." Madeline mumbled to herself looking away from him. With a sigh she pushed herself up, willing to brave the smoke at the higher normal altitude of the kitchen to at least bring herself Mrs. Hudson's decadent dessert.

Madeline suddenly found herself coughing the moment she reached her feet. The heart was smoking more than either of them realized. "Jesus!" She exclaimed between coughs, "Does that thing smoke a pack a day or something?" The microwave was pouring out smoke from all ends with no sign of stopping.

"Down." Sherlock ordered plainly from the kitchen floor.

"What?" Madeline inquired covering her mouth, looking down at him incredulously.

Sherlock's hand shot up and grabbed her wrist, forcing her down onto the ground next to him, "Oh, jesus!" She exclaimed as she slipped and fell on her bum. "Oh…" she wept as she laid on the ground, "Oh my ass…"

Sherlock rolled his eyes as he laid back down, with his arms behind his head continuing to watch the smoke roll above them from the counter to over the island.

"That's gunna bruise," Madeline hissed as she laid back on the floor next to him, watching the smoke.

"Maybe if you weren't so clumsy-"

"Maybe if you weren't so pushy." Madeline countered.

"You started this whole mess-"

"I know..." Madeline sighed, if she was one thing it was most certainly clumsy, "I know." Silence passed. "…I hate dates."

"Finally, we agree on something." Sherlock sighed arrogantly. "I deduced as such but wasn't sure as the human race in general likes such pointless traditions."

"And what are you exactly? Not human?"

"Well, you're far from it."

_Was that… a joke?_ Madeline thought incredulously, seriously holding herself back from turning her head to look at him. _He's teasing me… That's so cute! …Fuck. Damn that beast._

"Well then, you should know better than to assume anything is humanly normal about me when it comes to relationships."

"Can't forget your infamous almost-wedding."

"Which one?" Madeline snorted at both of her engagements to Danny, Sherlock's deep chuckle resonated through the kitchen as they laughed, shoulder to shoulder.

The silence went comfortable as the smoke cleared from above them, though the sizzling of the heart could still be heard.

"That smells awful."

"The decomposition of body parts usually does."

"That wasn't decomposition, that was a barbeque." Madeline yawned. This was by far the longest date she'd ever been on. And the strangest. But one could expect nothing less from Sherlock Holmes when no one ever even expected him to be interested in being with anyone in any capacity other than professional… or John Watson.

Sherlock rose to his feet, wiping the dust off his purple Valentino button up before looking down at Madeline. He looked like a giant from this angle for certain as he stood over her, and inquisitive look in his eyebrows. He was deducing her again.

"Um…" Madeline began nervously. He looked certainly menacing from that angle. She had every intention right then of asking him to move so she could get up as her bum was still aching and most certainly bruised. "Could yo-"

But her words were cut short with a squeal as Sherlock bent down and suddenly picked her up. Madeline squirmed as she felt herself rise, one of his arms under her back and the other under her knees.

"Excuse you!" She exclaimed breathlessly, her heart beating rapidly at his quick movement, "I can walk you know I'm not-"

Suddenly, Sherlock's strides stopped. He looked down at her with a curious look. One that she only saw when she knew he couldn't read her.

"What?" Madeline voiced when she realized he was expecting from her, but what she didn't know.

"Problem?"

"Well…" Her voice felt soft, "I just meant that if this is going to work- or I mean if we're going to try this together- you need to know I'm not your… John."

"I've never carried John." Sherlock said obliviously.

Madeline sighed impatiently, "Just, don't think I'm going to-"

"I don't expect you to." Sherlock said suddenly cutting her off, she looked back at him with tender surprise. "Are you expecting such from me?"

"Well, you do have a penchant for picking me up and putting me where you like." Madeline blushed with a light smile as she looked away, knowing she secretly loved it but didn't want him to know.

"Shall I stop?" Sherlock asked. His voice was barely audible and there was uncertainty in it.

In most relationships, such blunt questions never had to be asked. But Madeline knew one thing she would always have to be prepared for- and that was blunt questions from Sherlock Holmes. He was perhaps the most intelligent man in the whole world- with the exception of romance.

_…and astronomy._

Madeline responded silently, wrapping her arms around his neck and tucking herself closer to that wall of a chest. He hid it well behind his neutrality but she could have sworn she saw a pick up in the side of his lip.

"Though you do know..." Sherlock continued as he kicked open the door to his bedroom as he continued to walk Madeline, "John has picked me up numerous times."

"Now _that _I believe."

Sherlock looked down at Madeline with playful mock offense, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Suddenly, with very little finesse, he dropped her on his bed- right on her side that she used to sleep on for three years. His scent engulfed her and right then Madeline had never felt more homesick than she'd ever felt. It was then she realized that her new flat was not her home- Colorado was no longer her home, 221b Bakerstreet was her home. Here was her home.

Opening her eyes she looked up at him to see Sherlock's body standing over her looking at her with conflict. Once more, she knew- he couldn't deduce her. Or what to do next. Or anything of that sort.

"Can we agree on one more thing…" Madeline said softly with a sigh. Sherlock raised an eyebrow in response, "Can we agree that this was a shitty date? And can we agree…to never go on another '_date'_ again? At least not one on anyone else's terms?"

"You're wrong." Sherlock stated, his hands on his slender hips.

"What?"

"That was two things. You said can we agree on one more things- you just stated two."

The look of disbelief and impatience on Madeline's face was enough to silence Sherlock.

"…Yes." He agreed, swallowing his words. "Agreed. …but I'm still right." Almost.

Madeline rolled her eyes. "Well," She took a deep breath and smiled, "okay. Good."

Silence fell yet again as they looked at each other, both not knowing what to do.

It was far too early for sex... wasn't it? Her one attempt at romance had most certainly (and most literally) crashed (them both) and burned (the heart in the microwave).

"I better be off." Madeline concluded softly, with a light smile on her face. She wanted to do nothing of the sort, but as he had suggested nothing- she realized she had nothing to suggest herself. Between the both of them she had the most experience in 'romance' and then there was the ever impending reminder regardless of how she felt just at the scent of it, the feel of it, the memories of it-

221b was no longer her home.

"Back to that dump?"

"Um, that dump is my apartment."

"_Flat._"

"Apartment."

"Don't be an idiot."

"Well, I _am_ American you know, even if I was born here-"

"No. Not that." Sherlock paused, Madeline looked at him curiously as he searched for words (an occurrence that rarely took place). "…Plenty of space here."

"Not really, as I recall. We either shared this bed or switched one of us between here and the couch. And second-" She said with regret, "I don't live here anymore…"

Silence fell yet again.

Sherlock's face looked back at her- a strange look in his eyes. One she'd never seen before. It was intense- shocking, and more than anything- put Madeline on edge.

And it was only there for a moment. Quickly, like clockwork- the expression had changed to one of nonchalance.

"Well then!" Sherlock said far too perkily as he placed his hands under Madeline's pits, quickly pulling her up to her feet with a bounce and began to quickly usher her out of his bedroom and towards the stairs, "Off we go."

"We?" Madeline asked quickly grabbing her purse in the living room on her way out before being continuously ushered by Sherlock towards the front door. "Wait, Sherlock-"

"Sherlock?" John said rubbing his eyes as he stepped out of his bedroom at the noise, looking up the stairs Madeline looked up at John confused, "What the bloody hell is going on?"

"Goodnight then!" Sherlock exclaimed as he opened the front door, lightly placed his hands on Madeline's shoulders, gave her a suggestive nudge which she took a step outside- then closed the front door in her face.

Madeline faced the numbers 221b for a good minute.

"_What?"_ Madeline said softly to herself. She ran over what she told him in her head over and over, not understanding what had just happened.

_What... what did all that mean? ...what the hell just happened there? _

For a date that had been happening for 5 hours, it ended rather abruptly. And as she walked home, the brisk London air calm and relaxing, Madeline began to take inventory. She'd had two nearly successful engagements, four relatively normal relationships with men- all of course she had ended, including two weddings she'd ran away from. Then there was Sherlock. No other relationships to speak of. And yet she was just as clumsy as he was. Probably didn't hurt that she was madly in love with him, and even being in his presence was a reminder of what she'd missed by living away from him for three months- in her history of relationships she'd never even felt a portion of those other men than what she felt for that stupid, moody, brooding, consulting detective.

Madeline realized that it wasn't just Sherlock Holmes that was out of his depth.

_...Fuck._

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